Tentoria: "You have helped me before. Now, let *me* help *you*."
Bazren grit her teeth, the muscles in her new jaw knotting as she fought the mental intrusion. Her own thoughts felt small and fragile against the sheer weight of the entity's presence.
Bazren: "'Helped'?! You were destroyed, Tentoria! We couldn't get to you in time... How are you even still alive...?"
A low chuckle answered, a sound not of mirth, but of stones grating in a deep, sunless chasm. It echoed through their skulls, cold and vast.
Tentoria: "Sweet Bazren... 'alive' is not quite the word that describes it. Rest assured, however, that I do indeed still exist."
Even under psychic assault, Xayn's mind sought purchase, sought leverage. He forced his thoughts into a coherent shape, a question aimed into the abyss.
Xayn: "If that's so, then please tell us how to get to the bottom of the Eluvian Ocean!"
Tentoria: "I shall... As soon as I, myself, acquire that knowledge. For now, you *must* keep the vessel safe."
The immense pressure in their minds shifted focus, like a vast eye turning its gaze. Involuntarily, Xayn and Bazren looked at Mola, who lay trembling on the floor, her face a mask of pure terror as she stared back at them, caught in the same psychic web.
Bazren: "The sorceress..."
Xayn: "Why does she matter so much to you...?"
A faint, almost suppressed ripple of amusement flowed from the entity.
Tentoria: "To me? You should be more concerned why she matters to you, Xayn... The knowledge she now holds will prove invaluable in the journey to come."
Mola's body convulsed, a sob tearing from her throat as she clutched her head.
Mola: "Knowledge...? What knowledge?! LEAVE ME ALONE!"
Her final, desperate shriek was a psychic blade. The presence in their minds vanished, not fading, but sheared away, leaving a ringing silence and the phantom ache of its intrusion. The pressure was gone. Bazren stumbled, her own body returning to her command with a jarring suddenness.
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Mola scrambled backwards, pushing herself against the base of a ruined bookshelf.
Mola: "I don't know what she's talking about... Please, you have to believe me!"
Xayn and Bazren exchanged a look, the reflection of their new, stolen faces in each other's eyes offering no comfort, no certainty.
Xayn let out a long, weary sigh that seemed to carry the weight of the entire day. He approached Mola, his steps heavy on the debris-strewn floor.
Xayn: "... Sorry, Mola. But I don't believe you yourself know what secrets you hold."
He stood over her, a grim shadow in the fading light. Bazren came to stand beside him, crossing her arms in a posture of weary resignation.
Bazren: "Well, well... A 'vessel'. Sounds almost like we're back in Mortmundus."
Xayn's gaze dropped to the cracked stone floor, his expression hardening.
Mola looked from one strange, unfamiliar face to the other, her voice barely a whisper.
Mola: "You know what she means by that...?"
A cold, thin smile touched Bazren's lips, a cruel expression on her new face.
Bazren: "For your own sake, I hope I *don't*."
Mola seemed to shrink, growing paler by the second.
Xayn: "There is no point in dwelling on elusive knowledge and meanings lost in translation. Right now, there's something far more pressing at hand."
His voice cut through the tension, pragmatic and final. Bazren and Mola both looked at him, their attention captured.
Xayn: "Rest. We've been through more than enough for one terribly exhausting day."
Outside, the last sliver of the sun bled away below the horizon, plunging the sky into a deep, bruised purple. Night was falling.
Xayn gestured to the surrounding chaos. The Master's study was a tomb of shattered knowledge and broken stone.
Xayn: "The upper floor of the tower is an utter mess..."
Bazren's gaze drifted towards the staircase.
Bazren: "... But there's still *her* room, downstairs."
Mola flinched at the thought.
Mola: "M-my room...?"
Exhaustion was a physical weight, pressing down on them all. Even Mola, her spirit scoured raw, found it difficult to summon the energy for defiance.
Mola: "... Promise me you'll leave in the morning."
Bazren sighed, the sound devoid of its usual sharp edge.
Bazren: "Come on... We can worry about what happens next later, alright? Xayn's right -- we could all do with some rest. If anything, to process all of... *this*."
An uneasy silence settled between them. Mola weighed her options. She was weak, disarmed, and terrified. To call upon the darkness again felt like suicide. To be alone felt equally dangerous. These two... these two were a known threat, at least. A shield, of a sort.
Mola pushed herself to her feet, her body trembling.
Mola: "F-follow me, then..."
They turned their backs on the ruined sanctum, the three of them descending the spiral staircase into the growing shadows. The atmosphere was thick with un-answered questions, with the ghosts of the day's horrors and the dread of what nightfall might bring.
If the day had been long, the night promised to be an eternity.